


Heart in Recovery

by Anonymous



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: 2019 KHR Winter Remix, Angst, Bad Puns, Depression, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Cracky, Panic Attacks, Sleepovers, supportive family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 21:00:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22004362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The Vongola's heart has always been too big, but that comes with consequences, too.Ryohei’s no doctor, but he knows when he sees a heart in trouble.
Relationships: Sasagawa Ryouhei & Sawada Tsunayoshi, Sawada Tsunayoshi & Healing, Sawada Tsunayoshi & Love, Sawada Tsunayoshi & Vongola Tenth Generation
Comments: 3
Kudos: 67
Collections: 2019 KHR Winter Remix Fest Round 2: Remixes, Anonymous





	Heart in Recovery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loosecloudymist_OperaEagleAce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosecloudymist_OperaEagleAce/gifts).
  * Inspired by [the lining of your slowly withering lungs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21284090) by [loosecloudymist_OperaEagleAce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosecloudymist_OperaEagleAce/pseuds/loosecloudymist_OperaEagleAce). 



There’s a condition in sports medicine called athlete’s heart.

Athlete’s heart is characterized by a heart that’s bigger than most. It’s slower, but stronger, and capable of sending more blood through the body with less beats thanks to its abnormal largeness.

It occurs in people that make their heart endure more than it should, day after day, week after week, month after month. They constantly work their heart to the very precipice of what it can take, pulling back just before uncertain footing can truly fail it. The stress leads to physiological remodeling: the heart changes, enlarges, adapts out of necessity, to meet the demands being asked of it.

Athlete’s heart can develop through accident – a particularly enthusiastic athlete, new and bright-eyed and unknowing of their limits (or unknowing of just how important limits are) – or on purpose – an athlete whose dedication takes them too far so that they toe that edge and condition their heart to take it, to crush their limits and be the best, be superhuman, be enough.

It sounds romantic, in a way. Someone pushing themselves to be able to do more than their natural limits would allow, being able to work harder and go farther thanks to a big heart. It can certainly be a benign thing, an advantageous thing. Athlete’s heart, by itself, is not an indicator that anything is wrong. However, a big heart has historically been found to hide more serious conditions that often go unnoticed. A big heart can be trouble.

* * *

Ryohei’s no doctor, but he knows when he sees a heart in trouble.

* * *

The mission was meant to be a tough one. They knew that. But knowing never made it any easier.

They had spent the last few months digging out information from every source they could get their hands on, everything from missing person reports and eyewitnesses, to cameras and phone records. It took them over a month of grappling whispers and chasing shadows before they even got a name for the Family responsible. It was another two weeks before they could triangulate their base of operations.

After that, training and sparring were increased to every other day, with off days being spent pouring over building blueprints and delineating roles and attack strategies. Funds were immediately funneled toward preparing water, blankets, first aid kits, and relocation services for the eminent relief operations. Negotiations with allies in the area were made to coordinate transportation, medical help, clean up, and funerary services.

It had been one of the biggest operations they had taken on since their time in the Mafia began, the entire Family had been abuzz day and night, and four consecutive hours of sleep became something rare. There had just been so, so much to prepare for, and time was their greatest enemy.

It had been exhausting, and fraying, and a weight that had hung over them all every day they couldn’t act.

It had been difficult, but Vongola did not take murmurs of “human experimentation” lightly.

* * *

Even as far away as he was from the blast, Ryohei still felt the ends of his hair sizzling, but he didn’t even flinch as he felt the hot air pressure hit his face. He watched with sharp, hard eyes as the base before him was rendered to ashes, walls scorched and all contents inside decimated in the wake of the X-Burner just released.

The battle had felt like it ended as soon as it had begun. Months of preparation, realized in the span of a an hour, and an evil terrorizing the cities of northern Italy neutralized in the span of a minute.

It’s no secret that Ryohei loved battle. He loved the display of strength, the feeling of blood bumping through every artery in his body, oxygen and adrenaline mixing in a cocktail of euphoric excitement as two people faced their differences head-on. He lived for it. Unfortunately, however, not every battle was one he could enjoy. Sometimes, oftentimes, they held the weight of despair and hurt, and there were bigger things to think of than the rushing in his ears when there were people needing evacuation and protection. This was one of those battles.

He tilted his head as Tetsuya’s voice crackled in his earpiece. “Mission cleared. CEDEF will be watching to see if there are any escapees, but Shoichi has confirmed that there is no movement from inside the building at this time. Good job, everyone.”

The earpiece crackled again as Hayato responded. “Okay, Teams Gamma and Delta, move in with the water. Team Epsilon be ready to move in for clean-up when ready. Zeta, Eta, Theta, keep providing medical attention to any victims who are responsive. Everyone who’s not on standby, help distribute supplies and loading the survivors. Vans A through E are rolling out in seven minutes, so everyone with critical injuries should be placed in those. Vans F through M will be leaving in twenty.”

Ryohei turned from the fire rising from the building, eyes skimming the crowd of people they’d led out of the now-smoldering base behind him, their own people flitting amongst the clusters, giving out fresh water and taking inventory of visible injuries. Ryohei himself jogs over to one of the supply trucks and waves to the person inside to drop the tower of blankets she’d been holding into his arms. He grins, nodding his thanks before setting them down and immediately distributing them to whoever is in reach.

As eventful as the battle is, it’s always the end that holds the most punch.

Ryohei and the rest of Vongola recognizes exactly how critical it is to get the people they save the compassion, stability, and medical attention they need in events like these.

* * *

Unfortunately, Ryohei realizes, Vongola’s not as good at recognizing when its own people need that attention as well.

* * *

The first wave of vans has been sent out, and in the five minutes left before wave two would be sent off, Ryohei takes a moment from talking to the rescued civilians to look for his leader.

He catches sight of his Sky across the clearing walking close to Chrome, whispering something between them. Ryohei’s chest tightens and thanks Primo that the Mist is there, because, while the symptoms might not be noticeable or unusual to most, Ryohei would know the tightness in those shoulders, the droplets of sweat beading on that paled skin, the trembling in that set jaw, from meters away.

Tsuna is not okay.

He just barely stops himself from sprinting, not wanting to cause a scene or make Tsuna more miserable than he already is, but his stride is longer and quicker than normal as he walks across the space towards where his boss is imperceptibly leaning on his Mist guardian. Closer now to the pair, Ryohei manages to catch the tail end of Tsuna’s words – low, rapid, panicked and dripping with self-hatred and misery – and, more importantly, catches Tsuna just as he slips from Chrome’s arms.

“I’ve got you,” Ryohei soothes, the heart in his throat trembling like the heart in his arms.

He’s not quite sure about everything that happens after that. He knows he keeps talking, but also knows neither him nor Tsuna are really listening. Both of their attention is on the tone of his voice and the weight of one another, anyway, and that’s more than fine with him. He just wants to get Tsuna someplace safe, someplace where they can be there with him and ride this out together.

It’s not a minute later, as he commandeers them into an empty van, Chrome following right behind and Takeshi jogging up and scrambling into the driver’s seat, when he feels the trembling, seemingly fragile form in his arms, fall limp.

* * *

Their heart had been in trouble, and none of them had realized how bad off it had been until it’d gotten this far.

* * *

Ryohei’s no doctor, but he knows when he sees a heart in need.

* * *

Tsuna has agreed, after hours and hours of pleading and arguing and negotiating with his Family, to something akin to house arrest. He’s stopping all work, meetings, strategizing, sparring – everything. Everything that’s exacerbated the stress and helplessness Tsuna has felt over the past ten years needs to be put on pause until Tsuna’s ready to reintroduce it, with moderation, into his life again. Tsuna’s lifestyle, the very way he’s trained himself to look at his world, needs an overhaul, needs a break to be put into perspective. That starts by stopping it all together.

Ryohei knows that stopping his work is killing him, and he extremely sympathizes.

Working out is about routine. It’s daily. It’s consistent. It’s always having your mind focused on the next mission, the next benchmark. It becomes habit, and habit consumes you until it’s all you know how to do. To cut cold turkey, after years of running through routine, feels like someone is taking a sledgehammer to your gut. All you’ve worked towards and tried to be for the past however many years has been balled up and thrown away. It’s maddening. The things that have consumed Tsuna’s days for the past ten years have forcibly been put to an end, and Ryohei knows the kind of echoing emptiness that rattles in the wake of that.

The first few days, Tsuna’s nothing more than a zombie. He looks hollowed, confused, and weakly wanders the halls of the mansion with the air of a man lost at sea. Attempts to engage are often met with sullen looks or cutting remarks, and no one besides Reborn has had any luck at getting anywhere near their Sky, let alone making sure he’s sleeping and eating. It goes without saying amongst Tsuna’s Guardians that something must be done.

Luckily, if there’s one thing the Vongola is good at, it’s Distracting Hijinks.

* * *

Ryohei suggests sleepovers, and the suggestion is met with excitement, amusement, and begrudgement, depending on the person reacting, but everyone agrees that it’s the most effective excuse to make sure Tsuna gets sleep and socialization (not exactly in that order).

Ryohei just thinks it’s the most extreme way to watch the newest season of Project Runway, and this way he can see Haru, Hayato, and Mukuro argue over the schematics of clothing, while Ryohei gets to undermine their debate by cheering extremely for whoever is using the brightest, shiniest, gaudiest fabric. It’s fun, and Ryohei thinks Tsuna will appreciate it.

With Ryohei taking charge, since it was his idea, the plan is a-go that very afternoon. An announcement is sent out to everyone in the mansion, and everyone who’s not out on a mission, in a meeting, or furiously clawing their way out of a pile of paperwork, is asked to chip in.

Lambo, I-Pin, Fuuta and Chrome volunteer to ransack the east wing for all the pillows, blankets, cushions and mattresses they can fit inside the mansion’s parlor room, while Ryohei carries in the projector they keep in storage for special occasions (re: movie nights). He leaves it to Takeshi to hook the projector up to the laptop, and turns to check on Spanner, who was tasked with setting up an impromptu viewing screen. Ryohei bites back a grin as he watches the engineer stretch a king-sized bedsheet over a large mounted metal frame. Even Ryohei, who never really cared for such details, could tell the sheet was oddly expensive and out of place with the burgundy ones typically used in the Vongola mansion.

“Didn’t Byakuran mention something about a spare, 1500 thread count, ivory cotton Abernathy sheet set, retailing at 10,000 USD, going missing from the Gesso mansion’s linen closet the other week?” A dry voice questioned from beside him.

Ryohei turned his head at the voice and the grin on his face widened as he looked down at the fluffy brown hair of his friend. Tsuna, holding a lamp that he was most likely relocating from the parlor to a room his destructive family WOULDN’T be staying the night in, was looking pointedly at the off-white sheet in Spanner’s grasp. Said mechanic casually looked over his shoulder, and Ryohei watched as the blond lifted a free hand to the lollipop stick between his lips, pulling it free with a comically loud POP!

“Oh?” Spanner questioned, brow raised. “I don’t recall.”

That was all he said before slipping the candy back into his mouth and returning to his work. Ryohei guffaws, while Tsuna, nonplussed, lets out a sigh. Tsuna turns to Ryohei and they share a knowing look, but wordlessly turn their backs on the mechanic. _Extreme_ , Ryohei thinks approvingly, and he has a feeling Tsuna is equally as amused at the blond’s antics, if the twitch of the brunet’s lip is any indication.

“Do you need any extreme help moving the furniture, Tsuna?” Ryohei asks. He sees Tsuna’s head begin to shake before stopping.

“Oh, um. Yeeeeah, actually.” Tsuna draws out, and as hesitant as the statement is, Ryohei feels himself downright beaming. Asking others or accepting others’ help is one of the things they’ve been working on, and Tsuna is so, SO proud at hard Tsuna is trying. “If you’re um, not busy, I could use help pushing the furniture to the sides of the room? I’ve been saving the big stuff for until Hayato gets done with paperwork and drops in, but, um, I think we could get it out of the way if you, uh, wanted to?”

“EXTREMELY YES,” Ryohei cheers, pumping his fist. He wraps his arm around Tsuna’s shoulders, but quickly, sheepishly pulls away when Tsuna fumbles with the lamp still in his hands. “Oops! Extremely sorry! Forgot you were holding something, haha!” Tsuna flashes him a genuinely grateful, patient smile, and Ryohei tells him he’ll wait there while Tsuna finds some place to set the lamp down.

The two of them get the furniture rearranged fairly quickly, pushed to the edges of the room to make space for the mattresses and futons Chrome and I-Pin were piling in the center. As they work, more of the Family filters in, having finished the rest of their work and chores for the day, and helping out where they can with set-up and claiming spots around the room. After they manage to wedge the last stool in between a side table and ottoman on the far wall, Lambo takes Tsuna’s arm and drags him towards a nest made out of blankets resting right in front of Spanner’s make-shift screen. Hayato and Reborn are two of the last people to arrive, but they’ve changed out of their respective suits and into their sleepwear. Ryohei starts to take a mental count of everyone to see who might be missing before they can start the show, but before he can finish the double doors of the parlor slam open. ( _When had they even closed?_ )

Everyone stops their chattering, and Ryohei spots Kyoya and Tetsuya tense up from their spots against the far wall, each drawing a pair of tonfas from seemingly nowhere, as they all look towards the doorway.

There, smirk in place and sitting atop one of the largest popcorn machines Ryohei had ever seen, was Mukuro. The popcorn machine seemed to roll inside on its own, stopping just a few feet within the doorway.

“Fufufufufufu,” Mukuro’s laughed escaped him as he took a moment to look at everyone in the room from his perch atop the machine. “So. What’s popping?”

There was a moment where no one knew how to breathe, let alone react. That moment did not last long.

“That was so fucking corny.”

“Haha, corny!”

“I’m going to beat you.”

“Which level of hell did you pull that one from?”

“I think I’m ready for death. Yeah, this is it. This isn’t how I thought I’d go out, but this is as bad as it gets, so I think I’m ready.”

“I have the Vindice on speed dial, someone hold him down.”

“This was a mistake, can I go to bed? And like, hopefully not wake up?”

“That was seriously the best you could do?”

“If it were not for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you. Thankfully this is the mafia and those laws don’t apply here, so prepare yourself motherfu—"

“I’m boutta go feral—”

Chaos erupted, the room filling with outraged cries and groans. Mukuro’s form atop the popcorn machine dissolved into mist as objects were hurdled at him leading to more furious. Ryohei looked around, taking advantage of his still standing position to get a glimpse of where Mukuro may have reappeared to, and spotted him sitting next to Tsuna, amidst the center of the chaos, bag of popcorn in hand and cackling kufu’s unending. For the first time that night, the first time in a long time, Tsuna let out a loud, ringing laugh, doubling over with the strength of it.

The rest of the room quieted as they looked over, their fury quickly switching to fondness and laughter of their own, basking their Sky’s joys.

Ryohei’s heart felt light, his sniggering joining in with everyone else’s, and as people started to get up and shuffle to the popcorn, somehow, aside from a lot of teasing, Mukuro was off the hook for that awful, awful pun.

“I don’t know,” Tsuna mused, readjusting one of the pillows he was leaning against as the first episode of Project Runway was starting up, “I thought it was pretty a-maize-ing.”

The room let out another collective groan as a shit-eating grin slipped onto their Sky’s face.

“You are so lucky we love you,” Hayato grumbled, reaching over and stealing some popcorn from the bowl resting in Hana’s lap. Ryohei did the same, shooting a smile at her in thanks, and snuggled deeper into the blanket he was sharing with Ken and Chikusa.

Tsuna paused, but, just as the designers were beginning to be introduced on screen, Haru already letting out a furious gasp at the orange camouflage one of the new season’s designers was wearing, he nodded solemnly.

“I know,” he said softly.

Ryohei’s heart felt light.

* * *

Ryohei’s no doctor, but he knows when he sees a heart in recovery.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all! This fic was directly inspired by [loosecloudymist_OperaEagleAce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosecloudymist_OperaEagleAce/pseuds/loosecloudymist_OperaEagleAce) (whom I fondly call Opera-senpai), and her fic [the lining of your slowly withering lungs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21284090), a simply _incredible_ character study of Sawada Tsunayoshi, morality, mental health, guilt, and the unwavering support of friends and Family. I highly, _highly_ recommend reading that fic, because this one certainly could not even _begin_ to touch on the depth and heartfelt subject matter represented there. Just be sure to have a box of tissues nearby when you do. ; )
> 
> This fic was written for Round 2 of the KHR Rarepair Week's 2019 Winter Remix. We all have the incredible [rewire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rewire) to thank for the existence of this event and every amazing fic that came out of it! They worked so hard to organize, manage, and realize the full potential of this event, and I am so thankful for them. For more details about this event, or for more, better content that others have created for this event, please feel free to visit the collection, [here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/KHR_Winter_Remix_2019_Round_2).
> 
> Thank you for reading! :D


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